Large-scale cast of thousands dreams, new epic stories with almost biblical feeling.
We’re all in this government complex, on the monorail ride through and under the grounds, into and through secret buildings, dimly-lit boarding platforms glimpsed only for a moment. Good thing we’re strapped in, I think as we corkscrew through this dark tunnel, pressed into our seats -- I’ve found myself on Shock and Awe: The Ride. When we arrive at the end of the line, we’re suddenly let loose in the dark, empty bowels of the military-industrial complex. We fan out in boundless excitement and start to explore the tunnels...
Later, I find myself with the whole crowd of the past several years; we’re in the great Valhalla Mall of the gods, acting out a day of great events that will all be forgotten tomorrow, an end-of-days party so intense that it can never be remembered. And we all know that this is so, more to our advantage as it turns out. We’re running gloriously amok, throwing ourselves against the giants of the status quo in futile duels, cruising down the main streets in ocean liners while some moon the rest of the world over the side. Then, after the last mad rush of the night, we make our ways home from the mall, alone or in small groups. As I reach the far end of the Mall, I come across a girl my age sitting bright and alert in the pool of water surrounding a fountain. After some small talk I sit there with her and we wait for morning.
At last, the largest-scale event yet: I’m part of a giant cast putting on a space opera stage production. We come out of the audience, then blast through the outer hull of a spacecraft that fills the stage, tearing down this fourth wall and exposing the crew spaces within. Ships and people fly over the audience like an insane rock concert, as high drama is acted out in space suits and helmets. I have a small part, a spacewalking saboteur. It’s chaos, all of us trying to be coordinated with everyone and everything else while still getting the play’s meaning across; we’re all so overwhelmed by this spectacle we’ve created -- our collective production is now this machine just using us like replaceable parts, wearing us instead of enlisting us, but what else can a production this large be?
